Whumptober 2019 - 17 - Stay With Me
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. "Hey, T.C., you hear me? You gotta stay with me, man."


_A/N: Standard disclaimers apply._

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"Stay with me!"

Rick clenched his teeth as the van went over another bump, his chest constricting as he took in the pained look that deepened across T.C.'s face and the way his friend was unable to keep back the full cry of pain that forced its way out.

"Careful!" he yelled, glaring toward the front seat. "You're driving a van, not the Ferrari!"

"Sorry!" came Thomas's response even amidst another squeal of tires and the blaring of a horn.

But Rick had already turned back to his friend. "Hey, T.C., you hear me? You gotta stay with me, man."

T.C.'s breaths were coming faster and faster, and he gasped out a muted groan as Rick pressed down against his side.

The reaction from his friend made Rick swallow at his guilt. He knew he had to do it, had to stop the bleeding, but it didn't make him feel all that great about the pain he knew he was inflicting on his friend.

Of all the reasons they were rushing to the hospital… Rick couldn't believe it had actually gone down like it had. Magnum had asked Rick and T.C. for backup while he did a simple information exchange. They'd backed him up on more dangerous meets, both in the military and now that they were all on Hawaii, and things sometimes went sideways, but never like this.

Somehow, the guys Thomas was meeting had gotten suspicious of his motives, and the tense situation had somehow gone badly. Then the bad guys were taken care of, and the three friends had looked at each other in relief for the briefest of moments before T.C. had swayed on his feet and toppled over, clutching his side.

Rick remembered vividly how the blood rushing from his friend had contrasted with the light concrete floor and how absolutely terrifying it was to see how quickly it was pouring out of T.C. while his friend lay there blinking up at the ceiling and gasping for breath.

And then Rick had pulled T.C.'s shirt away to get a better look, and his stomach had dropped when he'd seen the bullet hole, and he'd immediately sprang up to grab a wad of towels from a nearby shelf—thank goodness for stocked warehouses—and pressed it against T.C.'s side. Rick had yelled at his friend to hang on while Magnum had grabbed the keys to the Island Hoppers van and raced to open the warehouse's garage door so he could pull the van in right next to the others. Both Rick and Magnum knew there was no time to waste, and T.C. might not be able to hold out long enough for an ambulance to come to them before bringing him to the hospital for immediate medical attention, so there was really only one thing to do.

Loading the injured man into the van had been one of the hardest things Rick could remember doing. There had been no easy way to do it, even with T.C. insisting he was fine and able to get himself into the van. They hadn't let him, of course, but the way he had winced and groaned as he'd tried to move and then as they'd gotten him up onto the floor of the van was something Rick wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forget—and it brought back a lot of memories that he'd very much like to forget.

T.C.'s sharp intake of breath brought Rick's attention back to where they currently were, practically flying down the road toward town, with Magnum swerving through traffic and laying on his horn repeatedly.

"I hope you have insurance on this thing," Rick remarked wryly, trying to get his friend's attention off of the pain he was sure was coursing through T.C. at the moment. "Whoever decided letting Tommy drive was a good idea anyway?"

Gritting his teeth, T.C. managed to roll his eyes. "I'm starting to… to see why Higgy does… doesn't… trust him with the Ferrari."

"Hey! I heard that!"

Rick smirked at T.C., then looked back down at the wound in his friend's side. He wasn't happy with how it was looking. There was still way too much blood, but he wasn't really sure what else he could do. They'd found a stack of beach towels in the back of the van that Rick had immediately put to use, but even those were starting to soak through now, and Rick was growing increasingly concerned T.C. was nearing the limit of how much blood he could lose without being in serious danger.

Sure enough, T.C.'s eyes were starting to drift closed, and Rick risked moving a hand from his side to pat his cheek.

"Come on, buddy. You gotta stay with me!" He searched his friend's face for any sign of recognition. "T.C.! Stay with me. Come on!"

T.C. mumbled something, then shifted to try to swat Rick's hands away weakly. "Tired."

"No, no, come on. Keep your eyes open. You gotta stay awake." Rick didn't say it out loud, but the idea of T.C.'s eyes slipping closed for him to then fall into a coma from blood loss was terrifying to think about. "Hey! Hey, come on. Let's talk, hm?"

"A… about what?" T.C. asked breathily.

"Anything! I dunno, um, how about how annoying T.M. is, dragging us into all these action-movie situations, huh?" He could feel the look he was sure Thomas was giving him, but he was just focused on the man in front of him. "And now he's driving your van around like this is _Fast and Furious_ or something."

T.C. chuckled at that, which prompted a coughing fit that made the liquid soaking Rick's hands flow faster, and Rick clenched his jaw.

"Sorry; guess I shouldn't make you laugh," he apologized quickly.

Then he noticed his friend's eyes slipping closed again, and Rick leaned forward to put a hand on T.C.'s cheek again. "Hey, come on. T.C.? Stay with me. Come on. _Theodore!"_

"What's happening?" Thomas's voice, clipped and thick with emotion came from the front even as the van swerved to the right and then to the left.

"Drive faster!" was all Rick yelled back. Then he turned and continued to try to coax T.C. back awake. "Hey, come on. Open your eyes, buddy!" Rick swallowed hard and pressed harder on the blood still seeping from T.C.'s side. "Don't do this to me! Stay with me!"

And then they were pulling into a well-lit area, and Thomas was flinging himself out of the door and yelling something at someone Rick couldn't see. Then the back doors of the van were yanked open, and relief washed over Rick as he saw a gurney being rolled over to the vehicle. Before long, they had T.C. loaded up and were rushing him back through the hospital doors, doctors and nurses already barking orders about prepping for surgery.

Rick was about to run after them when his adrenaline all faded away, and he suddenly needed to just sit down somewhere immediately. He sank onto the edge of the van, his legs giving out in the sudden surge of emotion, and he took a shuddering breath.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump slightly, and he looked over to see Thomas next to him.

"He's gonna be okay, Rick." Smiling encouragingly, Thomas tilted his head toward the hospital doors. "You wanna go inside? I'll go park the van."

Rick swallowed and nodded, slowly at first, then a little more firmly. "Yeah… yeah. I should, uh, go clean up anyway."

As Thomas nodded and closed the van doors, Rick squared his shoulders and headed inside. T.M. was right; their friend was going to be okay. He was getting help, and he would be okay. They'd made it there in time.

And then he thought he should probably call Higgins to let her know what had happened—even as a little voice in the back of his brain couldn't help but wonder how many times she would tell them off for not having taken her along for backup.

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_Fin._


End file.
